


Harry Potter and The Observer Effect

by TigerShark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Consensual BDSM, Dead Dursleys, F/F, F/M, Harems, M/M, Multi, Stalking, Sub Lucius, Switch Narcissa, top severus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShark/pseuds/TigerShark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The act of observation changes both the observer and the observed”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the long delay in reposting this story. I had managed to overlook it somehow. Mea culpa!
> 
> I have finished off the previously unpublished 6th chapter. 
> 
> As with all my stories, I will update when I update. Please don't badger me for more, that just makes me much less inclined to write at all.
> 
> This story is darker than my others and there is actual sex, in fact kinky sex. Be warned.

Harry had always known they were watching him. Every day he was outside he could see dark shadows flickering at the edges of his vision, hooded shapes following at a distance as Aunt Petunia dragged him by the arm through shopping centres. At night he saw them standing closer to the edges of the property, glimpsed through flickering reflections and lights on the glass of the big pictures windows in the sitting room or the limp lacy cafe curtain covered window over the sink in the kitchen.

 

When he was very little he was afraid of them. And really who wouldn't be? After all dark hooded figures following you around couldn't be good, right?

 

But as he got older, and all they ever did was watch, Harry got used to them. After a while they were even a comfort. At least someone cared enough to watch him, whomever they were. He was fairly sure there was more than one, since they seemed taller or shorter or wider or skinnier every time he saw them.

 

When Harry was ten he was fairly sure he was mental. The watchers were still there – just as silent, just as tenuous as always. But even in broad daylight nobody else ever saw them. A crowd of giggling teenagers just pushed past one in the park without batting an eye.

 

But he figured, as far as being mental went, invisible watching people wasn't all that bad. Its not like they were telling him to do anything bad. Or good. In fact they never did anything at all. But still Harry found himself looking for them, hoping to see one of his watchers.

 

That all changed when Harry was ten and a half. It was a wet gloppy February day. Dudley and his thugs had spent most of the day chasing little kids through the park and pantsing them or throwing snowballs at people from behind trees. Harry however had spent the day peacefully dusting the house. With Petunia out at a bridge club and Vernon 'with the lads' which Harry was pretty sure meant 'drinking like a corpulent fish' it was beautifully breathtakingly quiet for once in the little tacky house on Privet Drive.

 

He hadn't seen one of his watchers, always the bright point of his day, but it was still a lovely day. For him.

 

Until Vernon reeled into the house drunk as a lord. Harry had been in the kitchen and at the first loud bang of the door, Harry was halfway to the back door. “Freak! Freak come here boy!” hollered Vernon, his words half slurred. There was a crashing noise as Vernon fell into the hallway table and the vase of Petunias silk flowers smashed into the floor.

 

“How dare you move the furniture Freak. I'll teach you to touch our things.”

 

Oh this wasn't going to end well.

 

Harry eased the back door open, but unluckily Vernon managed to wobble into the kitchen fumbling at his belt. Harry bolted right out the door. Better freezing in the snow than another hiding. The drunker Vernon was, the worse his aim. After the last time the belt nearly got him in the eye Harry had decided to run for it the next time Vernon got drunk and riled up.

 

The backyard though was a slippery mess of trampled up snow and slush, with chunks of ice. The high fence meant there wasn't anywhere to go. Harry made for the gate but as he pushed at it frantically he realized that Vernon in his drunken fog, had managed to park the car right up against the gate, half in Petunias flowerbed, crushed twee wood edging and all.

 

As he realized this Vernon's meaty fist landed on Harry's shoulders and pulled him over backwards, sprawling across the muddy wet yard. The slush soaked through Harry's thin clothing instantly,but that was the least of his problems.

 

Vernon was so incensed at Harry daring to run that he was bellowing incoherent words and slicing at Harry with the buckle end of the belt, heedless of being out in the yard in broad daylight. Harry curled into a protective ball hiding his head with his arms as much as possible.

 

The sharp buckle cut into his skin and Harry cried out helplessly. His blood spurted onto the white snow. Excited by the blood and violence Vernon hit at him so hard he lost his grip on the bloodstained belt which flew over the fence and into the neighbors yard. Harry heard an odd popping sound he barely noticed since at that moment, now disarmed Vernon escalated to kicking at Harry.

 

With all his considerable weight behind it Vernon's heavy wellies made short work of Harry's ribs. As Harry tried to curl away from the worst of it Vernon triumphantly lunged forward and stamped down directly onto Harry's arm. Harry could feel the bones shatter and the flesh give way in a wave of searing agony as he screamed.

 

Then there was a green flash of light and Harry dimly sensed Vernon falling as Harry succumbed to darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke up in the clean warm soft dark. It smelled like lavender and warm cotton and woodsmoke. He treasured the feeling a moment before he remembered what had happened. Harry sat bolt upright in bed. Or at least tried to. His body jerked to a stop after raising only an inch. A soft chime sounded as Harry struggled against intangible, invisible bonds. His arm throbbed, but not nearly as badly as it should have.

 

A door opened in a rectangular flash of light, silhouetting a tall person, before the door closed again leaving only the soft firelight in the room.

 

The shape rushed over to him, reaching out a gentle hand.

 

“Hush there. You're safe child.” a soft voice spoke to him “That muggle can't hurt you any more.”

 

Harry struggled more, panicked at at the strangeness of the situation.

 

The person sighed, raised their hand in the dimness and muttered something.

 

 

The next time Harry woke he was in his cupboard at home. Well, at Privet Drive. Harry hoped it was a very strange dream, but the throb deep in the bones of his arm and his ribs told him otherwise. He supposed he must have been at a hospital or something for several days. Vernon was going to be so cross, he thought.

 

There were unfamiliar voices in the hallway and the sound of several footsteps. He could hear men talking to each other. Harry lurched to his feet and went to open his cupboard. The door however was locked from the outside, like usual. At the rattling of the door the voices outside stopped.

 

“Hello? Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia?” Harry croaked. His throat was very dry.

 

There was a long quiet pause. Harry could here several footsteps retreating.

 

“Hello? Who is this?” Asked a man

 

“I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Ask Uncle Vernon if I can come out yet?”

 

Harry wasn't sure he was supposed to talk to people when he was in his cupboard. But he thought, its not like they ever told him not to. And he really had to pee.

 

“Vernon Dursley was your uncle? Are you armed?”

 

“Armed? Why would I be armed. This is my bedroom. Wait, was my Uncle? What happened to Uncle Vernon?” Harry banged on the door. “Let me out!”

 

The latches rattled and the door swing slowly open. The hallway and the part of the kitchen that Harry could see was crowded with policemen. The door to the yard and the front door stood open, letting the cold winter air in. Many footsteps had tracked mud and snow all over Petunias pristine cream carpets. Harry had a moments mean satisfaction. That wasn’t coming out in a hurry.

 

Harry stumbled and nearly fell into the policeman. He raised his hand over his eyes and winced. The bandages on his chest and arm pulled and Harry suddenly realized he was wearing only his ripped pyjama bottoms, that he had belted up with an old shoelace leaving the cuts, bruises and old scars on his body clearly visible. He shivered.

 

The policeman steadied Harry and led him into the kitchen, to the table and chairs.

 

“Get someone in here to check the kid over and document this. Who was supposed to clear the scene?” shouted the man.

 

Someone in a medical uniform dropped a blanket on Harry's shoulders. “Someone shut those doors. Last thing the poor child needs is a cold on top of everything else.”

 

“Alright son.” The policeman sat down at the chair diagonal to Harry, one arm leaned on the table and an open notebook in his hands.

 

“Can you tell me what happened? Why were you locked in that cupboard.” He asked coaxingly.

 

Harry was very confused.

 

“They always lock me in the cupboard when they go out. And at night. And when I haven’t done the chores fast enough or well enough. Or you know .. whenever. Its my room.”

 

The man carefully makes a note. “When did you last see your Aunt and Uncle?”

 

“Ah. Saturday afternoon? Well Saturday morning.. for Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Um. What day is it?” Harry was wondering how long he had been at the hospital.

 

“Its Sunday Harry. The 23rd. So you have been in your cupboard since yesterday morning?”

 

“Um I must have been.” Said Harry, confused. “Wheres Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia? She's going to be livid, her carpets are a mess.”

 

“I'm afraid to tell you that your Uncle Vernon is dead. He appears to have suffered a heart attack in the yard, after crashing his car into the fence.”

 

Harry can tell the constable is trying to break the news gently, but Harry is just astonished. Nothing is adding up.

 

“And Aunt Petunia?”

 

“Your Aunt was driving your cousin Dudley to the chip shop to pick up their order when a lorry lost control and hit their car. Dudley is in critical care, but should be alright. Your Aunt Petunia was pronounced dead at the scene. I'm sorry.”

 

Harry was confused, overjoyed and sad. What a mix. On one hand, freedom! No more Petunia, no more Vernon and if he was very lucky no more Dudley. But both dead at once? And what happened to his arm and his ribs? He was sure they were broken but if it was Sunday that was only one day. He must have not been hurt as badly as he thought, Harry decided.

 

“There is no record of another child in this house. How long have you lived here?” The police asked, glancing over a sheaf of papers

 

“Since I was a baby. Aunt Petunia told me over and over how my no good parents were killed in a car accident and I was left in a basket. She was my mums sister.”

 

“Did they let you out of the house Harry?”

 

“Of course they did. I had to go to school and do the shopping and the yard. Aunt Petunias yard won 'most charming' two years in a row.” Harry is curled over, holding the blanket tight around himself. He feels very distant.

 

“Did you go to the same school as Dudley?”

 

“Oh no.” Said Harry “ They didn’t want me distracting their precious duddykums. I went to the school on the other side of the parish. I walked.”

 

“Do you or Dudley have any other relatives you could go to?”

 

“Aunt Marge.” Harry said “Well Dudley's Aunt Marge” he corrected himself. “But she won't want me. She always said I had bad blood. 'bad bitches have bad pups.' She always tried to get her dogs to bite me.” Harry realized distantly that he was crying. He watched as a single tear splashed onto the table top.

 

Some time later Child Services had whisked Harry away and given him a hot shower and clean warm clothes that fit. Harry stared dully out the window of the hospice he was being treated in. They said he was malnourished and had a fractured wrist, and a whole long list of other things that Harry proceeded to ignore. Its not like it was his fault that Aunt Petunia didn't want anyone at the local clinic to know Harry existed. Harry figured if you never ever saw a doctor, of course something would be wrong with you.

 

On the sidewalk across the street Harry could see one of his watchers. He felt better knowing they were still there. So much change, but he still had his loyal shadows. Harry smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

“What were you thinking!” Narcissa hissed vehemently, elegantly manicured nails dug into Lucius bare arms.

 

“I was thinking that the fat muggle was about to kill Our Lord's enemy.” Lucius drawled

 

“Good riddance!” Snapped Narcissa

 

“Narcissa you know what He said. 'Only I shall kill the Potter boy'. I am merely obeying his order.” Lucius responded coolly.

 

“Oh who are you trying to fool Lucius, you know perfectly well you just wanted to kill the muggle.” Severus spoke from somewhere behind Lucius.

 

“Well, that certainly didn't hurt.” Lucius answered, half smiling, turning his head just a bit as if to look behind him, still restrained by Narcissa and his chains.

 

'crack!' a thin leather whip snapped out and stung Lucius bare back. He hissed and curled in his chains, long blonde hair sliding over his chest.

 

“Now Lucius. You promised Cissy and I that you would behave until our Lord returned. I am very disappointed in you.” Severus enunciated silkily into Lucius ear, stroking his reddened back gently.

 

“I left no traces.” Lucius protested and then yelped

 

Narcissa carefully bit at his nipple. “Darling, the ministry knows there was magic performed there.” The firelight glints on her smooth blonde hair as she perched on the edge of a green velvet settee in front of Lucius naked body.

 

“Yes, but not by whom. It could have been the boy. I didn't even set foot on the property. The muggle broke the wards himself with Potters blood shed in anger. And we all know he's been tormenting the child for years.” Lucius yelped again as Severus swatted his bottom.

 

“You still broke your promise Lucius. You know I'm going to punish you for that.” Severus answered from several feet away.

 

“That made his cock jump Sev.” Narcissa commented mischievously, drawing one slender finger down the top of Lucius' semi hard penis.

 

“Leave that alone Cissy. He's not getting any relief from you tonight.” Severus commanded. “and the only cock you're getting tonight darling is mine. After I've finished rogering dear Lucius raw until he begs for forgiveness.”

 

Lucius chokes back a moan. His penis is now considerably more than half hard. There might have been a reason why Lucius was never very good at obeying, he thought to himself.

 

There is a pause. “For that matter , how did you get the boy off the property and back without setting foot on it?” asked Severus thoughtfully.

 

“I imperiused a muggle. And then obliviated him and turned him into a rat. I think the old moggy down Potters street got him.”

 

“Ha. You mean that crazy squibs cat?” Narcissa cackles. She may have had just a wee bit too much wine tonight to settle her nerves, Lucius thought.

 

“So you in fact killed two muggles, Lucius?” Severus cracks a whip behind him. Despite himself the loud pop makes him jump.

 

“Dolohov did for the aunt and the boy.” Lucius protested

 

“He only managed to kill the aunt. The boy yet lives.” Severus corrected. “Which means the wards still stand, although considerably weakened.”

 

“hmmmmm.” murmured Narcissa, as she watched the scene before her.

 

Lucius opened his mouth to ask her what she was plotting, when Severus started to whip him in earnest. As always Severus was a consummate tease Lucius thought, writhing under the kiss of the lash.

 

The first blows were always just light enough not to cut the skin, but to bring the blood to the surface making it warm and sensitive. Then a pause to soothingly touch his back and arse, as if examining it for readiness. And then the blows got slowly heavier and closer together, until Lucius was gasping under the crackle and burn of each strike. His thoughts were vague and formless, only the whip and the moment and how much he wanted to be good and how good this felt.

 

He stared upwards at the motionless portrait of Their Lord, looking down over the proceedings. How he missed His Lord. His cruel and firm dominion, his love, his care. His cock. But for ten long years they had no word from their Lord, but not a single portrait given out to his Court had come alive. Still they waited for their Lord to complete their family once again.

 

In a timeless time Severus finished with six resounding blows across Lucius buttocks. Lucius hung boneless from the chains, his cock hard and damp against his belly, gasping for breathe.

 

A thud from behind him, as Sev discarded the whip carelessly and circled the freestanding carved wooden rack that Lucius is strung up on. He paused in front of Lucius, and clenching his hand in Lucius' long hair raised his head and plundered his mouth cruelly. Lucius submitted mindlessly, eyes fluttered shut.

 

“Cissy darling, do you have the oils ready?” Sev asked, darkly.

 

“Oh course Sev. The usual and that special one we discussed.”

 

Lucius wasn't listening. He writhed weakly in his chains as they rattled against the wood. As always the beating had merely served to enflame him. He moaned, hoping for Sev's attention.

 

As Severus taps the chains they released, dropping Lucius almost into his arms. Severus continued the motion and draped Lucius over the end of the settee, face down in Cissa's unclothed lap. He carefully hooked the slim manacles together, holding Lucius hands securely behind his back.

 

“My turn darling” She purred, hooking one long elegantly stocking clad leg over the arm of the settee. She guided Lucius face first toward her mons, using his long hair to guide him. Lucius moaned, nose deep in her sweet cunt and started to lick gently.

 

Lucius really really loves Cissy he decided. Beautiful sweet wonderful woman. He continues licking her the way he knows she likes. After all he has had years without their lord to learn exactly how she likes to be pleasured. Even if Severus cannot join them nearly as often as they would all like.

 

Lucius legs were brusquely shoved wide and he moans. Severus's long elegant fingers drizzle oil down the cleft of Lucius buttocks. One long finger was plunged right in. Lucius bucked at the burn and sudden penetration. Narcissa rode his motion expertly and rubbed herself against his tongue.

 

Severus worked Lucius open slowly. One finger at a time, slicked with lubrication, drawing the preparation out until Lucius was moaning and humping back at Severus hand, lean pale flanks shivering.

 

And then Lucius was suddenly empty, with no warm presence behind him. He froze, worried, and Sev slid one slick hand caressingly along Lucius side, as Severus bent to pick up something from the low side table.

 

“Hold still pet” Severus commanded. Narcissa obligingly crossed her legs over Lucius' shoulders, locking him to the settee, balanced on his knees, hands bound behind his back still.

 

Severus took Lucius' cock expertly in his oil slicked hand, and at first it is almost too good .. a smooth slick glide and Lucius whined and pushed into Severus' hand. And then it started to tingle. It was when the scent of cinnamon reached his nose that Lucius starts to fight.

 

“You brought it on yourself Lucius. I merely added a mild tincture of cinnamon oil to the lubricant. It will not harm you. We discussed this. Just .. accept the pain, feel the burn.” Severus gently strokes Lucius' still red and sensitive back.

 

Lucius panted for breath, face still firmly locked to Narcissa's carefully clipped blonde pussy. When he stopped struggling, Severus returned behind Lucius.

 

“Do you remember what I said earlier pet?” Lucius can feel his warmth just behind him, his lean bulk pressing his legs further apart. Lucius moaned and tipped his hips upwards. Severus chuckled and drove home in one slow but steady plunge.

 

Some time later the three are collapsed across the silk sheets of the huge bed in the Malfoys bedroom in a tangle of limbs. One blonde head is nestled on either side of Severus' lean chest and they slide gently into sleep, wrapped in his arms. Lucius ponders how lucky he was to have his brother husbands and sister wives to keep company during the long wait for the Lord's return, before falling unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry decided that he really didn't much care for Child Services. He stood at the window of the dull gray waiting room, staring out the window. Rain slicked the surface obscuring the view of the view outside, as if in apology for its depressing nature.

Harry didn't particularly care. 

Vernon was dead. Petunia was dead. Dudley was in a coma. He supposed that was cause for celebration. But here he was in a strange place, with people he didn't know who kept asking him stupid questions and then were surprised at the answers. The other kids were either scared little bunnies cringing from shadows, or strutting bullies like Dudley. Harry just ignored them all as best he could. Nothing really seemed to be real. The nurse lady kept saying it was grief or shock. They had also decided his name was Henry Dursley for some reason, despite him saying otherwise. He stopped bothering to correct them. After all it didn't matter.

And he hadn't seen one of his watchers in over a week. 

In the hallway past the open door Harry can hear a policeman talking to the house Matron. Their lowered voices and anxious glances at him alerted Harry that they were talking about him.

The phone shrilled and the Matron hurried away to answer it. The policeman came to the door of the room but not inside. Harry had sort of noticed how the few men working there had taken care not to be between Harry and a door. He supposed it had to do with their theories about Harry had been treated.

Harry didn't see why they bothered... they weren't his Uncle. And though he didn't much trust anyone bigger than he was, which was to say everyone, he didn't make much of a difference between men and women. Petunia had been as horrid as Vernon in her own sly shrill way.

“We've contacted your Aunt Marge. Shes at the hospital with Dudley.” The policeman ventures.

Harry looks at him disinterestedly. Did they expect any different?

“She's refusing custody. But the public defender thinks..” The policeman continues.

“Don't bother.” Said Harry.

“Beg pardon?” says the copper, startled. His square red face is a lot like Vernons, Harry thinks, but kinder somehow. Maybe it was the curling black eyebrows, like two baby mice, furrowed in honest confusion.

“Aunt Marge hates me. She once let her bulldog keep me in a tree for five hours over the christmas hols. I think the bitemarks on my calves have faded finally though.” Harry says. He is starting to enjoy being able to say such horrible things. Surprise! Life is terrible! Shocking these stupid people into thinking for once.

The Matron rushes in from the hallway.

“Harry , Harry darling you should sit down. I have some terrible news” She starts, her voice thin with upset and oozing with sympathy.

Harry just stares at her and waits.

“Your Aunt Marge … she .. oh its so terrible. “ she stops for a breath. “She smothered Dudley! And then killed herself with a knife! Right there in the hospital.”

There was a brief expectant pause. Harry realizes he is supposed to say something. “Well that will save the public defender some bother then.” and returns to looking out the window. Harry grins out into the rain smeared window.

Across the street a tall hooded black cloaked figure is watching the house.


	5. Chapter 5

Another gray day in what passed for late summer in Britain. Harry had remained at the hostel for several months. Child services had tried several times to pair Harry up with a family for adoption but no-one was much interested in a quiet, distant boy in thick glasses. Babies got adopted right away. Teenaged boys like him just lingered in the system until they could be sent to a foster home with as many other children as could be jammed into one house. After all at sixteen they were old enough to be cut loose on their own.

 

Harry was looking idly for one of his watchers. He did a lot of staring out the windows these days. To be sure he did his lessons and read his books and talked to the therapists. But mostly he watched the comings and goings on the street. All these people rushing about their lives. Fat ones, thin ones. How simple and boring their lives must be, but still more interesting than Harry's.

 

A scream from inside the building caught his attention and he turned his head. It was one of the younger children. Some nursery room squabble over toys he supposed. He heard the hurried footsteps of the Matron as she rushed to separate the squalling girls.

 

He looked back to the street and smiled. One of his watchers was there, calmly standing by the tall wrought iron decorative lamp in front of the antique shoppe. Harry supposed the extra 'p ' and 'e' added another few pounds to all the prices.

 

As Harry watched the tall slim figure in its long robe and hood another one suddenly appeared right next to the first. Harry sits upright in deep surprise. He had never seen one appear, and he had never seen two at once. Harry watches the silent scene, a knot of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this happens all the time, he tried to tell himself, and I just haven't seen it before. In seven years since I saw the first one.

 

And then the extraordinary thing happened. An owl winged its way down out of the lowering gray sky. Harry stared at the owl. The watchers darkly shrouded hoods raised to watch the owl as well. It flew directly towards the window Harry was at. Harry recoiled back, as the owl swooped close, examined the bars with disdain and then wheeled towards the front door of the house.

 

Harry nonchalantly backed away from the barred ground floor window and went up to his pokey room on the first floor. The window though, albeit tiny, did open and looked over the street. He had a perfect view of the owl starting to dive at the lower window again and then check itself and gracefully re orientate on the window his was now at.

 

He waited but the owl appeared to be gone. Maybe on the roof ?

 

Harry opened the window and looked out, just as the owl dropped down to the window ledge with a triumphant hoot. He stared at it. It thrust one leg out at him and hooted again. Harry belatedly noticed some sort of paper tethered to its leg. He gingerly reached out for it and to his great surprise the little tag came off in his hand and grew into a full sized letter, huge red wax seal, ribbon and all.

 

Harry held the letter in his hand. The owl settled itself down on the window. Bewildered Harry looked towards his watchers for some kind of familiarity and his heart clutched in terror. There, across the street was not two watchers in dark cloaks, but a row of them all in a line. They all had dark shadowed hoods tipped up watching him at the window receiving the owl. There were at least twelve. Short, tall, fat, thin, even one with a cane.

 

Harry stared back. Nobody moved. The owl hooted softly.

 

Harry reached down to the letter and turned it over. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry” he read “Henry Dursley, Small Room At Top of the Stairs, Orphan Boys Hostel, Surrey”. 'What an odd way to address a letter and I see they have my name wrong too.' he thought. 'What am I thinking. It was delivered by owl. I think they can address it any way they please.'

 

Harry pried open the seal and slid a letter and folded list out into his hand.

 

It seems he had been invited to attend some private school. To study magic.

 

Harry thought about it for a while.

 

He then went to the his knapsack of school things and dug out a sheet a paper for his reply. The school letter said 'we await your owl' and here was an owl. He supposed that's how wizards sent letters. Made just as much as anything else he supposed.

 

He wrote out a hasty reply, gratefully accepting the offer and asking where he could inquire about a scholarship for his books and uniforms, where he could go to purchase them, and how was he to get to the school as well. His months of experience with the grind of official business had gotten him used to thinking far far ahead.

 

He folded up the letter and slipped it into an envelope. Here he paused and then shrugged and held it out to the owl.

 

“Can you return this to er Hogwarts please? Thank you” he said.

 

The owl hooted in reply, grabbed the letter with its beak and tucked it securely into one foot. As it did so the letter shrank down to a small tag size. The owl launched itself back out the window.

 

Harry looked across the street. As he did the watchers started to disappear, one by one. Just melting away into the thin afternoon sunlight. Three remained, a tall one, the one with the cane, and a slimmer shorter one. As he looked at them the shorter one in the middle turn towards the tallest and then hugged him.

 

Then all three were gone.

 

Harry could only suppose that his watchers had come to see him get his school letter. He wondered if this happened to every wizard .. maybe the watchers were some sort of protection. A bodyguard? After thinking about Vernon for a while he decided probably not.

 

Well he'd pay attention at school and see if anyone else said anything about it.


	6. Chapter 6

“I can't believe it at last!” Narcissa exclaimed.

“I know Sissy.” Lucius drawled, picking at the shrimp toast the elves had made for luncheon.

“Our little Dragon off to school at last and with Harry Potter. What a marvelous opportunity.”

“I wouldn't have your hopes up. Power or not, he is Our Lord's enemy and he might as well be muggle born the way he was raised. Damn that interfering Dumbledore.” he suddenly spat bitterly.

“I know darling. If he hadn't had those muggle loving fools block our suit to adopt poor Harry as a blood relative, things might have turned out so differently.”

“Well we did the best we could Cissy.”

“Right up until you avadaed that old muggle right in the face.” Narcissa giggled

Lucius clears his throat. 

“Not one of my better moments I admit.”

“And here your family thought they'd bred that nasty redheads temper out of the line at last.” They both laughed, Lucius a little shamefacedly.

“Ah well. I could only do it because that stupid muggle broke the protections with Potters own blood on a weapon. He deserved worse than what he got.”

“Tomorrow we can take our little dragon to Diagon for the last of his school supplies and one last trip to Fortescues.”

“Not tomorrow darling, Severus said he'd meet us there on Friday so he could top up our potions ingredients again. You know he goes through them between terms.”

+++++++++++

Harry was sitting on the splintery wood bench outside the hostel halfheartedly reading a book he'd got from the library on 'Myths and Traditions of the British Isles'. He figured that until he got his schoolbooks he should start someplace. Not as if there was anything else to do. Every few minutes he dodged a glance at his black cloaked watcher, stationed silently half a block away, tucked under a convenient overhanging bay window by the sidewalk.

“Henry?” a voice called softly. “Henry Dursley?” 

Harry ignored it the first time.

When it was repeated, louder and closer Harry looked up.

Harry sat bolt upright and looked around for whomever had called his name.

He could barely believe his eyes. There, in broad daylight, was a old looking man with a knee length white beard tied off with a tassel of all things, silvery hair streaming down to his ankles in waves and heavily ornamented purple and gold robes trimmed with rich black fur. He looked like a walking woodcut from a fairytale, pointy hat and all.

Harry flicked his eyes to his watcher, and they were gone as if they had never existed. He suppressed a frown. His watchers had always been there . Always. Beatings and rain and barking dogs and grunting Dudley, and they had stood there. And now this overdressed old fool drove them away? Harrumph. Harry was instantly disposed not to like the old man, tassel and all.

Harry stood up defensively, curling the library book against his arm.

“I don't know you.” Harry takes a step back from the wizard and heads towards the hostel door. He knows a matron is keeping an eye on him.

“Henry wait!” the man calls.

“Whomever you are, coming up to young boys on the street dressed like a crazy person is no way to make a first impression. If you have business with me you may speak to the matron of this hostel. Otherwise, I'll have her call the constables.”

The old man seems dumbfounded. He honestly didn't seem to expect this reaction from Harry.

“By all means Henry, I will speak to the matron.” He withdraws a stick, no obviously a wand, from his sleeves and flicks it over his robes. The purple velvet lounge suit is not much of an improvement, Harry feels.

Harry was quite happy with how much fast talking Headmaster Dumbledore had to give Matron Morton to get dubious government approval for 'Henry' to attend Hogwarts. Only a quickly summoned copy of the school charter (authorized by the Crown), and a copy of the letter signed by Harry's parents swayed her.

Harry however insisted he was perfectly capable of fetching his own school supplies and Dumbledore was heavily overruled. Under Morton's gimlet eye, Dumbledore had no chance of speaking privately to Harry, as Harry was kept as far from this strange person as possible. Not that Harry minded at all.

+++++++++++

Harry clutched his letters in one hand as he approached the run down pub. His letter said he should approach 'the Leaky Cauldron' and ask the innkeeper or a kindly stranger to open the gateway to Diagon Alley for him. It seemed like a form letter and appeared to have been signed by 'M squiggle squiggle Asst Hmsquiggle.' Whomever that was.

Harry felt out of place as he cautiously sidled into the pub. It was small and old. Cozy even and had patrons in all sorts of clothing ranging from regular street clothes, no different than he saw every day, to full length no kidding formal wizard robes with tall wide brimmed hats and long flowing cloaks.

As he paused inside the door the fire in the huge roast-a-cow fireplace flared green and a man stepped out onto the open hearth. He paused, looked down at his black smudged blue robe. With a frown he muttered something and waved his hand and the soot fell from his clothing.

“Tom! Will you have the floor cleaned sometimes this century? That's the third time this month I've had a dirty ride.”

“Sorry Archibald. Its the heavy traffic this time of year. I'll have summin in to look at it this week, Promise.”

“Hmmph. That's what you said last time.”

“Your usual then Archibald?”

“Not today Tom I'm straight through to Gringotts, and then I'm meeting Professor Snape to haggle over some numbing salve.” The man walked briskly passed the innkeeper, towards the doorway at the back of the shop.

Harry hurried to catch up.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir?”

“Yes young man?” the older wizard stopped and turned to speak to Harry. They were outside, in a small enclosed courtyard. There was a small pile of wooden crates at one side but nothing much else but sunwarmed brick.

“May I ask you to er..” Harry looks down at his letter 

“Oh good grief.” the man snapped. “ A lone muggleborn. What?”

Harry feels a knot of annoyance form between his eyes.

“Never mind sir. Obviously you aren't a 'kindly stranger.' I must have been mistaken.”

Harry turns on his heel and starts back into the pub. Hrrmph. Rude bastard.

“Oh for Merlin's sake.” he hears a mutter. “Stop! Young man.”

Harry stops, shoulder stiff and pulled back, one hand on the doorway back inside.

“Now turn about young man and make your request properly. Introduce yourself, with eye contact, and then clearly state what you need and why.”

Harry turns. He is determined not to be any ruder than this man is already, but he certainly wasn't about to give out any information he didn't have to.

“I am called Henry Dursley. My mother and father went to Hogwarts, but they are dead. Would it trouble you to open the way into Diagon Alley so I may go to Gringotts?” Harry grits out with a sliver of a polite smile. He is rather afraid it is more of a grimace.

The mans eyebrows leapt for his hairline.

“Well you certainly aren't muggle born. Muggle raised then?”

“Unfortunately Sir. Orphaned again now and in the crowns care for the time being.”

“Hmph. Well Henry Dursley I think I'm am going to be most willing to escort you to Gringotts Bank. As I was headed there and indeed, you are going to be the most newsworthy thing today I dare say.”

Harry think about that for a moment. Years of abuse by the Dursleys has left him cautious about asking questions.

“Are you a journalist?” He asked gingerly.

“Indeed not young man. I am a solicitor. Now step smartly.” the man said. As he tapped on the worn brick on the wall the bricks grated and started to move, realigning themselves into a graceful arched opening. The man stepped through and motioned Harry alongside him

“Welcome to Diagon Alley young Henry. Dogia Elphais Ramsbottum, full partner of Doge E. and Dogia E. R. Esquires. ”

“Thank you?” Harry surveyed the Alley. It was a narrow and winding old fashioned almost Victorian looking street, lined with buildings. Most had shops or stalls on the ground floor and the first and other floors leaned out over the alley. Everywhere he looked there were people in robes, strange hats and carrying wands or brooms. Some had baskets full of shopping, one old lady had of all things an entire stuffed vulture on her hat. Overhead owls flew on muffled wings to people and buildings.

“Indeed young man, indeed. You have quite a lot to learn I think. ” Dogia leads Harry along the Alley.

“So tell me young man. Exactly how much do you know of the wizarding world?”

Harry replies. “Exactly as much as was in my Hogwarts letter. It exists, there is a school and I'm going. I also have a list of supplies and I was told to ask after funding at Gringotts. That is about it. I have been reading up on regular fairy-tales and myths about magical things, just in case there's any truth to them at all.”

The old man cackles.

“Right into the deep end of the pond I see then. Brave lad. Now if you will take an old mans advice.” and he pauses to nod to an older woman selling flowers who greets him by name. “You will take the time at the book store to find a few books on recent wizarding history, culture, etiquette and stories as well as all the boring old tripe the teachers have laden you down with.”

“Yes sir.” Harry agrees. That definitely sounds like a good idea.

“Now I've dealt with muggleborn before and I'm going to be an interfering old coot and tell you what I have observed. “ They sidestep a large dog pulling a small cart with a squalling baby and a bushel basket of cabbages.

“Mind your manners. Muggle's have lost all sense of propriety, but us wizards remember an older gentler time. Respect your elders, speak concisely and with formality. Save the slang and the familiarity for your own age.”

Harry nods. He might as well listen, even if the old grouch was completely wrong, as least he was escorting him to the Bank.

“There that's Gringotts” the old man raises his cane and point as they turn the last little dogleg in the alley. Still several yards away is a very tall white marble structure with pillars and steep white steps. Two armed and armored guards stand by the large brass covered doors under the sheltered portico.

“Where was I?” Dogia asked.

“Manners.” Harry prompted, lending the old man a hand stepping over a puddle in a missing cobblestone.

“Manners! Indeed. Thank you Henry. Manners and modesty! Not that it matters as much to you young bucks, but to a wizard my age, men going about in trousers is unseemly.”

“Muggles accept men and women wearing trousers these days.” Harry added.

“Well Muggles may accept women in trousers and skirts showing off their knees, but wizards, wizards my boy do not!” Dogia exclaimed.

He stopped and turned to face Harry, gesturing with his hand.  
“ Why not the other day this impertinent young chit, wearing a skirt that barely covered her .. her..” waves at his groin level rather than use any rude words, “ was terribly rude to my husband and wives! Of all the impertinences!”

Harry considered this for a moment, trying not to laugh at this outraged outrageous old man.

“Most muggles reject any marriage that isn't between one man and one woman. Just two people, opposite genders. I take it that wizards do things differently?”

“Of course we do! Its not your average wizard that can have more than two spouses though. After all the great Lords have often had five and more.” Dogia cackles “ Its all down to power my lad, power and stamina! More power, and the more people will be attracted to a person.”

“Indeed the late Dark Lord had more then ten consorts, the lucky devil. I'm quite busy enough with my three. Mark my words young man, the more there are the harder work it is.” 

Harry smiled.

“I'm sure it is sir.”

“So! Manners, modesty and honor! That's the last thing you should remember and I hope it will stand you in good stead. Always keep your word young man, never hex a man in the back, and always pardon children, and bearers. Mind those things and you'll get along fine in the wizard world.”

“Bearers sir? Pregnant women?” Harry asked, slightly confused.

“Pregnant men, women and creatures, all sorts.” Dogia corrected.

“Oh. Muggles only have pregnant women.” Harry added, kind of startled. Pregnant men? What on earth would these wizards think of next.

Harry laughs. “I see that there are a great many things I shouldn't take for granted then.”

“Indeed young man.” They stop at the foot of the stairs of Gringottss

Harry turns to the older man and acting on his instincts. bows.

“Thank you very much for your advice Sir, and for your assistance.”

Dogia harrumphs, and rummaging in his belt pouch hands Harry a crisply engraved business card.

“If you have any questions, send an owl to my office.”

“I certainly will sir” Harry says and bows again.

Dogia slowly starts up the stairs and waves Harry ahead of him. With a grin Harry bounds up the steps of the bank and into the open doorway.


	7. Final notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these are the remainder of my notes on this story. It is being discontinued as I am retiring from writing fanfic.

Henry Dursely is sorted into Slytherin. Nobody cares.

As he grows older his power entices other wizard and witches to him as usually happens with Lords.

When several concerned parents ask after his bloodlines, he goes through the motions and requests a paternity potion from Severus, as the muggleborn slytherins are allowed. He comes up as the child of James Potter (lord) consort Sirius Black, consort Peter Pettigrew, concubine Lily Evans, slave Remus Lupin. Much to everyones surprise

Although James had told everyone, including Lily, that she was his wife and he was being a good christian, he had actually taken two consorts, a slave ( as you cannot make a creature a consort) and a concubine - Lily. She had been love potioned into submission by Dumbledore on Jame's behalf and with his reluctant approval.

Harry has a great fondness for his hooded masked companions of his childhood, and wants to make them happier more than anyone else. When he realizes that Malfoy Sr and Snape are two of them that shapes his politics and actions. He becomes a Dark supporter and is instrumental int he raising of Lord Voldemort.   
Potters consorts and court are made up heavily of the children of deatheaters.

Voldemort, Harry and their combined Courts destroy Dumbledore and his consort Grindlewald and his lesser concubines ( Molly Prewett, etc)

Harry, Draco, Neville, Hermione, Zabini and etc all end up in one large complicated marriage / court. The end.


End file.
